Tears

Prologue -


1996, October 21st, Tokyo Japan, was the day that the money that was due. The man of the house was busy reading the newspaper while his wife was cooking breakfast. The man was balding and had a comb over to try to hide it. His white whiskers fluttered under the air coming from his nose. He would never breathe through his mouth. Not even when making love. He wasn’t overweight, but his wife always nags him to loose a couple more pounds. Stress from work and lack of exercise gave a little more meat on his bones. His wife didn’t look a day over 30. Maybe because of the thousands of dollars she spends on all those moisturizers and creams. She was healthy like a anorexic super model and dressed in short dresses. Not today, she was in a grey jumpsuit with the words "Angel" in light pink on the back. She worked as a stripper at a local strip club and gave lap dances for 50 bucks each. In the other room was their son, Kyoharu. He looked nothing like his parents. They both were born with black hair and brown eyes. He had blonde hair with blue. They never got why he turned out to look like a Caucasian. Just a glitch, maybe. Kyoharu was watching TV and eating his favorite sugary cereal, waiting for his mother to give him his clothes. He wasn’t allowed to dress himself. His mother always wanted to pick out every outfit he wore.


A couple minutes after the skinny woman placed the plate of food infront of her husbands face, the phone rang. The wife was washing her hands at the moment and she scowled, seeing that neither men seemed to notice the ringing. She wiped off her fully manicured hands with a rag off of the counter and picked up the phone. "Hello?" She asked into the phone. The voice she heard was husky like the person has been drinking liquor and smoking cigars all that morning. The husband's eyes widened as he heard the muffled yells through the phone. He heard that voice too many times to forget it now. The man heard his wife's plea, " Please, sir. We don’t have the money yet. I'll work overtime if you give us--....... That’s absurd! I have a child to feed!" Kyoharu looked back from the TV. The word child was always used about him. He was only 8 years old. He heard his mother trying her hardest to muffle her crying as she placed the phone on it's receiver. "Kyoharu! I have a task for you!"


Kyoharu jumped up and ran over to his mother. "What is it Mommy?" he asked innocently. The little boy looked directly into his mother's face. Her nose was red and her eyes were watery. Something is wrong and it has something to do with that phone call. The older woman took her sons hand and put 5 dollars in. "Here Kyoharu. Go to the store and buy some milk. We ran out while I was making the eggs." Kyoharu looked at her with confusion. "I'm not dressed, though. What should I wea--" "It doesn’t matter, Kyoharu! Just get the milk!" She screamed, holding onto his shoulders. Kyoharu ran into his room and quickly dressing in a shirt and a pair of pants, not even noticing that his shirt was inside out. Kyoharu ran to the door and stared putting on his shoes when his mother hugged him tightly from behind. "I love you, Kyoharu. Always remember that." Kyoharu nodded and told her he loved her too. She kissed his head and he ran off to the store.


"Why was mom was acting so weird? Who was on the phone? What's wrong with my shirt?" These questions kept roaming through his mind while he walked to the market. Kyoharu pushed the door open and walked inside. He immediately ran over to the candy section and took a candy bar before getting to the refrigerator. He pulled out the only jug of milk he could reach and put them on the counter for the store employee to ring up. "That would be 380 yen sir." Kyoharu smiled as he gave the lady the the money. No one ever calls him sir. It's either Kyoharu, child, kid, or brat. Sir made him feel at least 3 years older. "Thank you very much and have a nice day." Kyoharu nodded a thanks and headed for the door. " Did you know your shirt is on inside out?" Kyoharu looked back at the lady then looked down at his shirt. He saw that ugly tag staring strait at him. Kyoharu pouted and left the store. He was so embarrassed that he ran the rest of the way home.


Kyoharu slammed open the door screaming, "Mom! Why didn’t you tell me my shirt was inside out?!" No one answered. There was an unpleasant odor in the house that smelled of rotting meat. Kyoharu almost dropped the bag to hold his nose. "Mom! What are you cooking!? It smells bad!" Kyoharu's eyes widened and his hand released his nose. The milk that was in the bag made a ''thud'' sound as it fell to the floor.


Kyoharu's mother and father laid dead on the hardwood floor, bathed in their own blood. Both of their eyes were still open. The only wounds that were shown through their blood was the bullet wounds in his mothers neck and back and his fathers forehead and leg. The small boy's stomach turned, tasting his sugary cereal in his mouth. He fell to the floor, vomiting out everything in his stomach and sobbing. "Mom! Dad! Why did this have to happen!?"


That was the day that I stopped crying.


TBC...